Explained -The Mad Village Poet 11(End)

Original(O) :The city was becoming crowded
With the less-hairy members of my species.
Explained(E): I am at it again, pretending as an ape. As an ape, I regard human beings as my relatives. At least, science has shown that they are the next to me. One little thing science has blundered in, is saying that they are AHEAD of me in the chain. But, I am waiting patiently for when their lesser intellligence will get the better of them; and they will wipe out themselves in their violent and selfish animalistic fevers. A nuclear war dance would be a good way to send them all reeling off the stage. And I’ll have my day.
O: They laugh at my afro;
I mourn for their baldness.
E: Naturally, these deluded humans think I have more hair than I need.
(Incidentally, as a human, I actually had quite a lot of hair on my head -the typical afro style. And people never seem to say enough about it.)
Some of them have discovered their nakedness, but unfortunately can never grow back their hair no matter how much hair-growth formulae they use.
O: At least they have carved out a new niche.
I shall call them humans.
E: I have, at least, given them what they want. They always seem to be obsessed with recognition and some sense of importance in itself. They always seem to be crazy about identity(irrespective of whatever bizarre thing/belief/ideology they really stand for), worth(even when they are not useful to the next man), carving out niches and being different(even if this new niche is a self-destructive, no-good niche). This identity-thingy or title seems to be a different drug of addiction in itself, to them. They want to be KNOWN for something. Anything!
O: Now, I hope none comes back
To interrupt my solitary forest meditation;
Begging for some hair-growth formula
When they can’t keep warm by being “on heat”;
E: Humans are so ashamed of themselves that they never seem to tire of finding new ways to alter their biological make-ups. Some want to live forever and would spend their lives to purchase an anti-aging cream even if the active ingredient of that cream is monkey soup. Some want to change the basic colours of their skins.
These humans claim they are free-thinking free-will beings. Yet they have become enslaved to doing as their mind pleases.
Little wonder they can’t keep warm by being “on heat”. Little wonder they get high and dry seeking pleasures and whatever else their FREE minds desire. It’s a freaky cycle of knowledge/enlightenment – thirst – search – acquisition/”satisfaction” – realisation of further desires. They get all and they get nothing in the end. Still left cold!
I’ll probably humour them and do them a favour: in my solitary forest meditation, I’ll cook up an afrodisiac that can keep them “on heat” for as long!
O: And are desperate for some meaning,
Which is to be found only in monkey soup.
E: And, after all their search, they will realize that none of what they got made any real, lasting sense.
Maybe, they will at last come bow at my feet and I’ll teach them -the fulfilment in simplicity and realising one’s place as a creature.
O: It is midnight again-
My period of peak activity;
Ears stretched taut, hairs standing alert,
Nostrils flared, lips set,
Eyes unblinking, fingers feverishly working.
E: Just as written -my nocturnal self!
O: The mad village poet goes to sleep on his laid egg;
Hoping it would hatch by morning into the mad city poet!
E: Yeah! The eggs is hatching already. This being the last of the Mad Village Poet’s rants, The Mad City Poet is coming out of the shell soon. I can feel the baby kicking in my tommy now.
Thank you.
Epilogue(Original):
Couples hanging out on Friday night,
A transaction that comes with a “minimum wage” agreement.
Pity if either one is an economist;
Then the other will be a charitable social worker!
Epilogue(Explained): It’s Friday night, and the mating ritual of the humans reaches a climax. It needn’t be said that: even the so-called romantic love is still a two-way thing. It’s a kind of business transaction. It’s not as pure and selfless as they make it out to be.
Shame! Considering that in our ape kingdom, you needn’t be a father to the fruits of your royal oats sown! You don’t even have to give the she a banana to buy her butts!
The sad part of OUR people’s animalism!